


The Spider

by hailbabel



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailbabel/pseuds/hailbabel
Summary: A cellar spider sneaks his way to breakfast while Nancy is lost in thought about freckles.
Relationships: Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	The Spider

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of FitzBirch fluff.

Sneaking away from Greek Street for a while to have breakfast with Isabella was Nancy’s favorite part of the day. Well, that and sneaking back at night for a nightcap. Nothing was quite so content and peaceful as sitting down to a hot cup of coffee, a beautiful spread, and Isabella, freshly made up for the day.

Nance hardly ever ate much, save for a few bits of bread and whatever fruit Isabella wanted to make her try that day. In truth, it wasn’t the food, or even the coffee, that kept her coming back every morning.

Across the table, Isabella was looking at her over her cup of tea. There was nothing special in it--it wasn’t passionate, or lusty, or even searching. She was just looking, as though memorizing the lines of Nancy’s face, or noticing some quirk for the first time. Still, the enduring attention was embarrassing, and Nancy cast her eyes down so as to not feel so exposed.

She couldn’t stand how those eyes seemed to see everything about her. As her own eyes drifted down Isabella’s neck, she realized for the first time that there was a light spattering of freckles there. She had them across her shoulders, her neck, even across her chest. Not the concentrated clusters of one exposed to the sun too long, but scattered, wandering little flecks. How had she never noticed them before?

Nancy let her eyes drift from one to the next, like little breadcrumbs. She did her best not to think about kissing each in turn, but the effort to push the thought away only brought it to the forefront of her mind.

Isabella’s cool voice broke over Nancy and brought her out of her reverie. “Nancy. Are you staring at my chest? How ungentlemanly.” Her eyes were mischievous now, one brow cocked in a question.

Nancy laughed lightly, breaking her eyes away to look down into her coffee. “I never noticed you have freckles, is all.”

Isabella made a dissatisfied noise in the back of her throat. “Pesky little blemishes,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. She brushed one hand over her shoulder as if she could scrub them away.

“Who told you such lies?” Nancy wished she was not so far from Isabella, now. She thought she might have dipped her head into the nape of Isabella’s neck, letting her nose trace lightly over her smooth skin, perhaps even brushing her lips over those freckles. If only it weren’t for the damn table between them. “Are you so blind?”

“Only hoping you might be. The powder usually covers them, but I… Well, I just didn’t wear any today. It didn’t seem necessary.” Isabella picked up her tea again, squirming a little under Nancy’s scrutiny.

“You’re so obsessed with perfection, you think yourself blemished.” Nancy said softly, distantly aware of how forward she was being. Any other time, she might have been more tentative, even afraid, but she was feeling especially bold just now.

Isabella opened her mouth to reply, but paused suddenly, her eyes going wide. Her cup, halfway to her lips, quivered.

“Bell? Isabella?”

Isabella snapped her mouth shut and uttered a small, terrified noise.

And then she saw it, its spindly legs picking a delicate path across a plate of tarts. Long-legged, and with its trademark wobble, the cellar spider was harmless. Cute, even. But very out of place. How he’d managed to make his way to Isabella’s table unseen until now was a mystery.

Isabella was stock-still and did not respond to Nancy’s voice. Nance was sure she hadn’t even taken a breath.

“It’s just a cellar spider. He’s harmless,” she said in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

She may as well have been talking to the wind. Isabella seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle over whether she should scream, or just stay still and hope the spider would go away on its own.

When Isabella still hadn’t moved, Nancy snickered into her cup. She quashed the urge to tease the woman, however amusing an idea it seemed.

Draining her coffee with another gulp, Nance scooped the awkward little gentleman up with cup and saucer, careful of his delicate legs. She handed this to a maid. “Take this little one out of the house, eh? See he doesn’t upset your mistress any more.”

When Isabella still didn’t move, Nancy gently took her cup and set it down.

“Breathe, girl.”

“I don’t like spiders,” Isabella said through gritted teeth, her shoulders finally relaxing as she took what Nancy was sure was her first breath in minutes.

“Little thing hardly counts as a spider. More like a peanut with legs.” Here, Nancy made a wiggly sort of motion with her fingers under her chin. Nance thought herself rather amusing, but Isabella did not share this sentiment. Isabella turned slowly, her eyes still wide, her face a stony mask.

“Thank you,” Isabella said, her voice barely a whisper. And then, more like herself, save an octave higher, “I think I should like a walk in the park.”

Nancy opened her mouth. She thought about all the spiders, and beetles, and other creepy-crawlies that were like to be in the park. She should tell Isabella, obviously, that this may not be the best idea. But. Isabella loved to stroll in the park when she stayed at St. James. She spent the majority of her free time there. If it occurred to her that her most beloved haven was full of invaders, she’d lock herself in her room and never leave it.

While this was amusing in theory, Nancy shut her mouth.

Best not to say anything at all.


End file.
